


Cafés and Pining

by goodemornting



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Lesbian AU, Love, Pining, Rocks a cutie and Jan is like damn, Short Drabble, no it’s just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26371330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodemornting/pseuds/goodemornting
Summary: Jan knows everything about the regulars at her cafe, but she’d certainly like to knowmoreabout the pink haired woman who orders something different every visit.
Relationships: Rock M Sakura/Jan Sport
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	Cafés and Pining

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Winterboxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterboxx/gifts).



> This is a short drabble I wrote between my other wips, I hope you guys like it !! Winter, all your jock simp times inspired this so I wrote this just for you, café lesbians ilysm :)

Jukebox, being one of the only cafes near the University that was open all day and all night meant that Jan saw a lot of traffic, especially around finals time. She learned some of the most familiar faces — the ones who trudged in through the doors of her café at three in the morning, haggard with dark circles under their eyes, and didn’t leave until 10:45 in the morning for their final at eleven—but most importantly, Jan learned their orders, their tables, their habits. Small things about them that the blonde liked to think kept them coming back for more.

_(“It’s less because of your customer service and more because of your face,” Nicky had snorted when Jan had gushed to her about that. Jan mulled that over fact for a bit, but eventually she agreed; her face was pretty awesome.)_

Crystal, third year Art major, liked her coffee as sweet as possible, sometimes with a sweeter pastry on the side. Jan always recognised her because of her bright orange hair and distinct sense of style. She complimented her a lot on that, being rewarded with a wide grin, airy giggles and an extra bill or two pinned underneath her plate.

Kyne, fourth year Literature, liked simple drinks, and usually had a book in her hands. She always took the window seat, and Jan had a niggling feeling that had something to do with the tan, blonde woman who passed by around 6pm with complicated fashion sketches held tight in her hands.

Lemon and Juice, Psychology and Business, tended to take the biggest tables in the center of Jukebox, spreading out their homework and textbooks like they were claiming their territory and only moving aside for their other friends. Jan knew to expect them for hours after they’d arrived, and she kept the cute pastries extra stocked for Tuesdays because she knew Lemon had a difficult class with an even more difficult professor that day.

And then, there was Rock.

Like the other regulars, Jan knew Rock’s Jukebox schedule down-pat. A night-owl, she tended to slouch in on Monday and Wednesday around midnight, long after the mad rush of students grabbing a quick coffee to fuel their last minute studying, and she took up the seat closest to the counter. Sometimes, she fell asleep at the table, and Jan — ever the mom of her friends — draped her warmest blanket over her because somehow, Rock always seems tired. She had expensive-looking headphones hanging off her neck, baby pink with cat ears on top that Jan thought she looked absolutely adorable in, and since the weather was getting cooler, she’d been wearing giant oversized scarves that looked comically big on her. Jan knew Rock always looked over the menu approximately five times, even though she’d been coming into Jukebox almost every week, and Jan also knew Rock always, always ordered something different.

However, unlike the other regulars, Jan didn’t know anything, literally anything at all, about Rock’s other schedules. She didn’t know if she was a student, or if she was working, how she’d come to get the atrocious nickname of Rock and how that related to her actual name, or where she was from or if there was someone waiting for Rock to come home. (Not that it mattered; it was just that Rock spent all her Monday and Wednesday nights at the cafe, and Jan knew first-hand how crushing disappointment feels, how cold the other side of the bed could be. She was only looking out for the imaginary someone she’d conjured up in her imagination, that was all. Being a good samaritan and all that.)

Jan didn’t even know if Rock really liked any of the cakes that she made, because although there was always an empty plate on the pink haired woman’s table, she always came back the next week and ordered something else. Jan started to peek out from the kitchen to check if Rock cracked a smile or anything while she ate, but so far, there was no more emphatic response than a brief pause and a tiny grin. Strawberry shortcake, Jan‘s mind supplied, jotting it down in her brain that maybe the woman liked strawberry flavours. That wasn’t too hard to incorporate into things, maybe she could add more to the menu—

“What,” Gigi deadpanned flatly when she found the blonde awkwardly curved around the window from the kitchen out into the main floor of the café. Jan jumped, her shoulders jerking to her ears, and she missed Rock’s first bite into the meringue pie. “Are you seriously spying on Pinky over there to see if she likes whatever ‘daily special’ you’ve made for her this week?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Geege,” Jan chuckled smoothly, even though her ears felt like they could heat her tiny apartment for ten winters. “The daily special is for everyone.”

The brunette stared at her, and Jan stared right back, fighting the urge to turn back to observe Rock eating her pastry. If she did, Gigi might realise she had spent all weekend trying to come up with a new recipe for the daily special that might pique Rock’s interest and her tastebuds.

“Is that all?” Jan asked, giggling suspiciously. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a vague blur of pink that was Rock dipping her head to fork some of the pie into her mouth. Jan needed to see her reaction, it pulled at her neck like a compulsion.

“I hope when I’m as old as you,” Gigi finally groaned, when Jan succumbed to the temptation and tilted her head ever so slightly so she could just see Rock in her periphery, “I’ll be less embarrassing about my feelings.”

The blonde gaped as Gigi left, giving her a snicker of doubt and wandering off to man the counter. “It’s not about feelings, Gigi Goode!” she whisper-yelled with a frown. She only whisper-yelled it because although Rock was wearing her cat-ear headphones, her fingers tapping out a restless beat on the table, there were other customers around. “It’s about dignity!”

“Sure, Sport,” Gigi rolled her eyes without turning around from where she’d started preparing a hot chocolate to go. “You’re crouched in the kitchen peeking out at some girl eating the pastries you’ve made specially for her just to see her reaction, all for the sake of your dignity.”

Well, when she put it like that. “I—” Jan started, cutting herself off when she realised she had absolutely nothing to say. “I’m going to— do inventory.”

She turned on her heel and fled into the kitchen, but not before casting one last look at Rock’s table. Her face was expressionless, and Jan scowled at the list of ingredients in her hands as she did inventory for the third time that week. She crossed off meringue with an undue amount of force.

Not meringue, then.

***  
  
There were exactly four things about herself that Janet Manitone Sport was proud of: her face, her soccer skills, her pretty singing voice, and her cooking artistry. And although there wasn’t a force on earth that could make Jan doubt the level of her attractiveness, it seemed that all it took to put a massive dent in her cooking artistry self-esteem was a tiny woman with cat ear headphones and massive scarves.

So Jan hadn’t been lying when she’d told Gigi it was a matter of dignity. Her pride — Jukeboxes pride, even — was on the line here, and so it seemed totally warranted for Sunday night to see her inviting over Jackie to be her unwitting taste tester for the new daily special.

“Not that I’m complaining about free food,” Jackie started, which was how Jan knew she was going to be complaining, “but why is everything so strawberry-y?”

“One of my customers likes strawberries,” The blonde sighed, distractedly starting a batch of cookies as a potential fall back. Oatmeal was classic, except Rock hadn’t so much as batted an eye at Jan’s great-grandmother’s family recipe. “Is it too much, though?”

“Honestly, it feels like I just drank, like, two hundred thousand strawberry milkshakes” Jackie gagged, putting down her fork. “I feel like I need to gargle and spit.” Jan hummed and made note of it in her notebook before she swiped Jackie’s fork and took a bite herself. Eugh, definitely too much strawberry. But maybe Rockie liked the feeling of downing two hundred thousand strawberry milkshakes? She seemed like a sweet tooth (Unlike Jackie, who would be eating nothing but garden salads and takeaway food if it weren’t for her saint of a roommate, Nicky, who was apparently pretty good at cooking. Jackie hadn’t introduced the two of them yet, but Jan had already decided she liked her).

“Jan,” The older woman chuckled, and the gentle tone of her voice should’ve sent up warning flags, but Jan was too busy debating on the merits of slipping strawberry in with her oatmeal cookies. Her great-grandmother might’ve been rolling in her grave, but if it coaxed something more than just a tiny smile out of Rock… Jan might’ve been willing to try it.

For the sake of her pride, of course.

“You’re thinking gross thoughts, aren’t you?” Jackie hummed, breaking through Jan’s musing and squinting at her suspiciously.

“If by gross you mean the state of your bedroom, then no, thankfully, I’m not.” Jan grinned, not at all thinking about how nice Rock’s smile must be, and how nice that smile would be when directed straight at her. Because of Jan’s food. Right.

“My bedroom’s not gross,” Jackie protested. “It’s a little bit disorganized, okay, true — but I still know where everything is.”

“Yeah, so do I,” Jan plucked the fork out of her mouth and scribbled another note to herself: Straberry and vanilla?? “All of your goddamn things are on the floor.”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “Well, here’s your chance to verify that. Come over for dinner tomorrow night, my place. I bragged about your cooking and that you own a restaurant, and now Nicky wants you to try her macarons to prove she’s ‘the best cook that’s ever lived’.”

“I own a café, mom.” Jan corrected, “But sure.” She may not have been a university student anymore, but she wasn’t going to turn down free food when it was practically offered to her on a silver platter, especially when most of the time it was Jan cooking for her friends and not the other way around. “I’ll get Geege to cover my shift. That’s when Crystal comes in anyway, so it’s not like it’ll be hard.”

“Cool,” Jackie smiled before standing from the table and grabbing her wallet and keys. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, six o’clock. Bring your own drinks. And don’t mix strawberry with oatmeal cookies, I saw you eyeing them! What have those oatmeal cookies ever done to you?”  
  
***  
  
Jan turned up at promptly six o’clock with a six pack of sparkling water and a bottle of white wine. That should be enough for the three — four? — of them, plus Jan knew where Jackie stashed an extra pack or two of her fancy European beer. She also turned up with dessert; her mom didn’t raise a fool, though admittedly, part of it was that Jan wanted a new taste-tester for her newest concoction that she thought would be The One: strawberry vanilla cream pie.

Nicky was really cool; she laughed with her entire face and had a French accent and seemed pretty exciting. She seemed to know that her smile was charming, and Jan could respect that. She was also hellbent on proving to her friend that her macaron recipe was the best in the entire universe.

“She’s picky as hell,” Nicky said gravely, the three of them sitting around the tiny table in her and Jackie’s tiny kitchen. The warm smell of pastrys in the oven made Jan think of home, which might’ve been the point. “And perpetually late. She’s an illustrator for like this big TV company, and she’s been working on a piece, like, non-stop lately, so she’s probably just tweaking it now.”

“Woah, an actual illustrator?” Jan raised her brows, “So you’re in law school, your friend’s an illustrator, and Jackie’s gonna be a a doctor. Why do I feel so outclassed?” She pouted.

“Ah, Janny,” Jackie giggled, patting her shoulders. “That’s because you are.”

Jan swatted Jackie’s hands away just as there was a flurry of knocks on the door. “Finally,” Nicky groaned, getting up. “I’m starving. The next time I invite Rock over, I’m going to tell her to come thirty minutes in advance.”

Jan froze. Surely there was more than one Rock living in New York. There were plenty of people with a nickname like Rock. Surely Rock was a popular enough name that it couldn’t be — it couldn’t possibly be — 

“Sorry I’m late,” an all too familiar voice chimed brightly. Jan turned very slowly to look at Rock taking her shoes off and holding out a bag for Nicky to take. A bag that had Jan’s café’s name emblazoned over it. “But I brought dessert!”

“Merde, not this place again,” Nicky rolled her eyes, grabbing the bag from the shorter woman. Jan was distinctly aware of Rock’s gaze falling on her, the weight of it impossibly heavy, and maybe she was projecting, but the atmosphere in the apartment suddenly became stifling and awkward.

“Rock visits this café every single week,” Nicky laughed gleefully, with the air of someone who had teased that same topic many times before, “because there’s this really cute blonde waiter or cook or whatever who Rock has this massive crush on, but she’s—”

“Nicky,” Rock yelped, her voice high pitched and panicky, “Stop, stop, stop!”

“Wait a sec..” Jackie cut in, “Isn’t that a bag from your café, Jan?”

There was a loud silence. Jan was afraid to breathe, afraid to move; all she could do was look at look at Rock with wide eyes, who was just as flushed as she was. 

“Oh.”

**Author's Note:**

> Go follow my tumblr @goodemornting if you feel so inclined !! Comments and all of that are always appreciated :)


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